Something Blue
by Gmariam
Summary: As Jack drives back with Owen after Gwen's wedding, Ianto rides home with Tosh. Both cars have a long talk about the events of the day. Once back in Cardiff, however, Jack and Ianto must finally talk to one another if they are to move forward with their relationship.
1. Part One - Something Old

Part One - Something Old

Jack watched as Ianto walked away with Tosh, not sure what he was supposed to be feeling after all that had happened—and not happened—between them that day. It was the middle of the night and he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. They had all had spent the entire day trying to ensure that Gwen not only had the wedding of her dreams, but managed to survive it with an alien egg inside of her. Sometimes Jack wasn't sure which had been harder, but it was done: Gwen was alive and happily married, and the wedding guests were blissfully unaware of anything but a beautiful ceremony and some rather strong champagne afterwards.

He hadn't died, and it wasn't as if he didn't usually stay up for half the night, so he wasn't sure why he was so physically tired. Emotionally, he was even more exhausted, and that was even worse. He just wanted to move on and not have to deal with any aftermath, and yet he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't happen. Not this time, not if he wanted…well, whatever it was that he wanted, which was difficult to sort out with so many thoughts chasing circles through his mind.

"So why are you stuck with me and not our new Torchwood dj?" asked Owen from the passenger seat, gazing out the window into the darkness instead of at Jack. Jack glanced sideways at him and shrugged.

"Guess he just wanted to ride home with Tosh," he offered. The same question had occurred to him when Ianto had offered a polite yet abrupt good bye, but he didn't really want to think about the answer.

"Or he didn't want to ride home with you," said Owen, cutting straight to the mark as usual. Jack almost winced from the truth, because he had come to the same conclusion; he just hadn't figured out why.

"I talk a lot," he replied, trying to sound casual. "Maybe he just wanted peace and quiet for the ride."

Owen actually snorted, though how that was possible, Jack wasn't sure. "Right. You're a talker, but I somehow doubt you two get up to much talking, especially on dark roads in the middle of the night."

"Well, if you must know…" Jack started, offering a cheeky grin. It felt forced, though, because Owen was right again. They didn't talk much, not about the things they needed to talk about anyway, and then something like this would happen, some miscommunication or misunderstanding, and Jack would have no idea what to do other than shag Ianto into the nearest wall, which he somehow sensed wasn't going to work this time.

"No, I do not want to know," said Owen, sounding pained. Jack chuckled, but heard the insincerity in it and stopped. Owen turned back to the window and after a long silence spoke again.

"Think it has anything to do with that dance?" he asked.

"What dance?" asked Jack.

"What dance," Owen muttered, shaking his head. "No wonder you're not the commitment type."

"What?" asked Jack, completely confused. "What do you mean, I'm not the commitment type?"

"Well, you're not, are you?" said Owen rather bluntly. "You've said before things are different where—and when—you're from, no labels and that sort of thing. So I imagine the complexities of a monogamous relationship—let alone a marriage—are probably too irritating to have to deal with."

"Says the man who used to shag his way through Cardiff's waterfront pubs on a regular basis," said Jack. Owen's comment stung, and he felt like childishly biting back to cover the hurt. Owen rolled his eyes in a very Ianto-like manner that made Jack wish the Welshman was sitting in the passenger seat instead.

"Key words being 'used to,'" the doctor replied, eyes back out the window. "And honestly, it wasn't like I made it out to be."

"You mean there wasn't a different girl every night?" Jack asked, hoping to keep the conversation light because he didn't want to go wherever Owen was heading with whatever he was trying to say.

"Nope," said Owen, admitting it rather too quickly. Jack suspected that if the man was actually alive he would have never had shared such a thing. "Not every weekend."

"Owen, I'm shocked. You just ruined your reputation for me."

Owen shrugged; the old Owen would have had a snappy comeback. "It's true. I drank a lot, but more often than not I went home alone."

Jack was silent after the unexpected confession, until he worked up the courage to ask more, hoping to keep the conversation away from the original question. "How come?"

"Because I, for one, find the idea of monogamy and marriage rather appealing, believe it or not," Owen replied, bringing it right back around. "Just like Gwen, just like Tosh, and I suspect just like Ianto."

Jack's head whipped around, and he almost curved off the road. "You think Ianto wants to get married?" he demanded. Was that why Ianto had gone home with Tosh? Was he having this same conversation with her? Was he thinking of ending it between them so he could pursue the same sort of life Gwen had just pledged herself to?

"Bit hard when he's busy shagging the boss," Owen pointed out. "But yeah, why wouldn't he? He's young, smart, well off, and if I were interested in such things, even good looking." He laughed at himself. "He'd be a good catch for some lucky bird."

"I can't believe you just said…" Jack counted in his head, "…five nice things about Ianto. What is it about weddings that makes everyone so sentimental?"

"It's the happy ending," Owen said. "The one not a lot of people get. I didn't get it." He turned away before Jack could say anything about that. "Gwen got it tonight, and maybe Tosh and Ianto want it. God knows they both deserve it."

"Yeah, they do," Jack murmured. It had not really occurred to him to wonder what Ianto might want for his future, particularly after watching one of his coworkers get married. He remembered glancing over at Ianto during the ceremony—why they hadn't sat next to one, he wasn't quite sure—and catching Ianto with that rare, happy smile on his face as he watched Gwen and Rhys pledge themselves to one another. Ianto was happy for them; so was Tosh and so was Owen, who they all knew had slept with Gwen.

Why was Jack not happy then?

Jack was silent for so long that Owen finally turned back and started the conversation again. "Have you ever asked him?"

"Asked him what?"

"If he wanted to get married?"

"To me?" Jack exclaimed, and Owen let his head fall back as he laughed, which made something in Jack's chest tighten just a bit, that Owen apparently found the idea repulsive when really, it wasn't _that_ bad.

"Of course not, you knob," the doctor replied, shaking his head and still laughing. "As if that will ever happen," he added.

"Hey, it'll be legal in a few years," Jack protested. Which was true, he knew it from having studied history as a Time Agent.

"That's not what I meant," Owen replied, and Jack sighed.

"I know."

"And?"

Jack thought about his answer. "No, he's never talked about it. I think he was very serious about Lisa and saw them together in the future, but I'm not sure he's thought past that since she died."

"Or past your cock," Owen muttered.

Jack didn't reply but felt his jaw clench just a bit at the unsaid implication. "Look, I know what you all think—" he started, but Owen shook his head as he interrupted Jack.

"Doesn't matter what we think. What matters are you and Ianto. Or at least Ianto, since you have all the time in the world, and he doesn't."

"Ouch," said Jack.

"The truth hurts sometimes," said Owen. "Being dead's changed a lot of things for me."

"And one of those is suddenly being concerned about Ianto?" asked Jack skeptically. Again Owen rolled his eyes.

"Hardly. But it definitely made me realize that our small, insignificant lives, in all their ridiculous glory, are not infinite. There's so much I can't do anymore, so much I won't ever do now. I'd hate for Ianto to wake up one day and regret shagging the boss for so long that he never bothered to settle down into a real relationship."

A real relationship. It was like being kicked in the gut. Jack suspected that was another part of the reason Ianto had left. Gwen's wedding had almost certainly thrown their own undefined and slightly dysfunctional relationship into a new light, one Ianto was perhaps even now starting to question with Tosh.

But at the same time, they had _something_. It wasn't conventional, no, but it worked for them, didn't it? There was a lot Owen didn't know, after all.

"We have one," Jack said quietly. "A relationship."

Owen tilted his head to the side. "Quick fucks around the Hub do not define a real relationship."

"What does?" asked Jack.

"You know, actually being together. Going out together, and not just to stun Weevils. Dinner, concerts, movies. Picnics in the park, overnight trips. Shopping and cooking and just sitting around the flat, watching telly or playing a game or even just doing nothing. Enjoying one another and actually caring about one another, not just the next shag."

Another kick to the gut, this one harder than the last. God, Owen as a dead man was a bigger prick than he had been alive, if only because he suddenly seemed to have developed a conscience and no filter whatsoever. Jack wasn't sure if he'd survive the trip back to Cardiff.

The thing was, he and Ianto did do those things, every single one of them. Except for the picnic, maybe, which Jack added to his list, if Ianto was still interested after the mess Jack had apparently made of the day. But for some reason he couldn't tell Owen all that. He took a deep breath and started somewhere else.

"I was married once," he started softly, and Owen whirled around with such a look of shock that Jack actually laughed. "It's true. It was a long time ago, though, and it didn't last long. And I've been in other relationships as well,_ real_ relationships." He thought about Angelo and Estelle and Lucia, not to mention a fair few others, then shook his head, trying to focus. Owen hadn't said a word.

"So it's not as if I'm not capable of having a lasting relationship, even a monogamous one," Jack said. "It just gets harder and harder, knowing how my life compares to theirs. Knowing that I'll outlive them every time, that I'll just lose them again and again."

Owen nodded silently, and Jack continued, as if purging something he'd been holding back for a long time. He hadn't vocalized these thoughts for years, decades maybe, and he'd never talked with Ianto about it, because they simply didn't talk about _them_. It was as if there was an unspoken agreement between the two men that whatever they had was to remain undefined and unsaid, if only to protect them both from getting in too deep and ending up hurt.

"I've been here long enough to see and understand the appeal of relationships and marriage, but now…it's been so long, I don't feel like I can afford it."

"Can't afford to risk it?" asked Owen. "Risk actually caring about someone so much you'd do anything for them?"

"Exactly." He shrugged, ignoring the niggling voice in the back of his mind that was screaming at him that what Owen had just said was exactly how he felt about Ianto. He _did_ care about the Welshman who had somehow ended up in his bed as a casual shag, but then had stayed much longer and become something more. And he _would _do anything for Ianto, it was just that most of the time…he didn't know what, unless it involved immediate danger and the threat of losing him.

Jack could feel Owen studying him, as if debating whether or not to ask whatever was obviously on the tip of his tongue. This time Jack rolled his eyes.

"Spit it out," he said. "Since we're already sharing."

"What about Ianto, then?" asked Owen, as if he had been reading Jack's mind. "Is he just a quick fuck or a real relationship?"

Jack looked down at the steering wheel. "I'm not sure that's your business," he said, starting to regret how much he had already confessed.

"Well, as the team doctor, I do have to look out for the staff," said Owen. "And I think something happened tonight that's got you two riding home in separate cars, something that is therefore my business because it affects the well being of at least two patients under my care."

"How so?" asked Jack, perhaps a bit too harshly; Owen ignored his tone.

"I don't want to see anyone get hurt," Owen said. "You or Ianto. Call me a concerned party, or maybe even a friend." He paused. "Jack, can I ask you something?"

"I think you've already established you're not afraid to tackle the big issues here," Jack said ruefully.

"No, I'm not. But I bet Ianto is." He paused as he gathered his thoughts. "You spent a good part of the day making bitter remarks about the wedding. You looked pissed off at the ceremony, like you were disappointed we actually managed to save it for Gwen and Rhys. And you looked positively lost when you were dancing with Gwen."

Oh god, here it came: that damn dance.

"So let me ask you: were you thinking about Gwen today, or something else? And did you think about Ianto once before he cut in on you and Gwen?"

Jack didn't have an answer for him, and that, he realized, was his problem.

* * *

Author's Note:

Apparently I can do people sitting around talking like no one's business. Stay tuned for more talking soon. But no worries, as an actual plot is starting to take shape for my next big story...once I finished the two I've got started here. :)


	2. Part Two - Something New

Part Two - Something New

"So the wedding was lovely," said Tosh, trying to make conversation in the still silence of the long drive home. Ianto let her; he wanted to talk, he just wasn't sure how to start.

"If you like a wedding with psychotic alien shape shifters bent on ripping their offspring out of the bride."

Tosh tried not to giggle, but finally let it out. "It all worked out in the end, though."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks to Rhys and the largest amount of Retcon we've ever delivered at one time."

"Was it really?" she asked, and he inclined his head in response. "Well, it was for their own good. And for Gwen."

Ianto didn't respond, because he didn't want to say anything that sounded spiteful. It wasn't that he was feeling terribly negative about Gwen and Rhys; on the contrary, watching them finally exchange vows had been the best part of a long day. They had gazed at one another with such love that Ianto couldn't help but smile, even as he thought of his own future and how he'd likely never experience such a thing.

He hadn't given it much thought after Lisa had died. He'd hoped to propose to her one day, but that had been ripped away from him over a year ago. It had taken a long time to accept that she was gone—had in fact been lost to him long before he had brought her to the Hub—and after that he had fallen into whatever thing he had with Jack, so he hadn't really thought about moving on with another woman after Lisa. He didn't think much about marriage, a house, kids—the normal things most normal people tended to dream about.

Because his life was not normal, and it wasn't even about Jack: it was about Torchwood. Torchwood kept him up at all hours of the day and night, kept him running through alleys after Weevils, kept him chasing Blowfish and Hoix and all manner of strange alien creatures in their unsung efforts to keep Cardiff—and the world—safe from the unknown universe just the other side of their doorstep.

He could have left; he might have even kept his memories. Yet deep down he wanted this life with Torchwood, even with the sacrifices it entailed: the lying, the sneaking around, the covering up; not seeing his family, never getting credit for stopping the next alien invasion. He was not an exceptionally adventurous man, but working for Torchwood showed him there was more to life than rugby and pub crawls, and he needed that, especially after what he had seen at Canary Wharf.

And yet, something had changed that night, however small and subtle.

Gwen suddenly had it all. She had the normal life—a partner, a family, a flat—and she had the Torchwood life. If she could have both, why not the rest of them? Well, Owen couldn't anymore, but what about him and Tosh? They could have it. They deserved it, especially Tosh: she'd been with Torchwood even longer than him. They _should _have it.

With a sigh Ianto turned to look at Tosh. He'd had a few drinks while at the DJ table and was so exhausted both mentally and physically that he knew his guard was down. Yet it was Tosh, and he had confided in her before, so he knew he could again. He suspected she felt similar, after all.

"Did you really think it was nice?" he asked as an opening, and she looked at him curiously.

"I did," she said. "I mean, I didn't like getting stuck in tar with that grabby prat of a groomsman, and I could do without all the blood and guts and Retcon, but it's a wedding, Ianto. What's not to like?"

He was silent as he pondered how to continue. "Do you ever see yourself getting married?"

This time her face registered surprise before she grinned that adorable grin of hers, the one some lucky man or woman should be waking up to. "Why, are you asking?"

He grinned back. "Not yet. Just curious where a bloke would stand if he did."

He was glad that she laughed, but she didn't answer, so he had to ask again. "I'm serious, Tosh. Do you ever want that—the partner, the wedding, the happily ever after?"

Tosh sighed as if he had just asked her the most loaded question in the world. "Of course I do," she finally said, her voice soft and sad. "But that's not really going to happen for us, is it?"

"Because we're Torchwood," Ianto supplied, and she nodded. "But Gwen has it, and she's Torchwood."

"She's different," Tosh said. It was something Ianto had often thought himself, but it was interesting to hear Tosh say it. It had always seemed so obvious to him, even if Jack had never seen it.

"She doesn't have our history, our past, our losses."

"Exactly. She came from the Cardiff police force, not from a UNIT prison or an alien invasion in London." She reached over and patted around for Ianto's hand; he took hers and squeezed it in understanding.

"But do you think it's just a little bit possible, for us?" he asked, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes as he tried to picture it: something resembling regular working hours so he could go home for dinner, sleep in a real bedroom every night, raise kids, send them off to school in the morning while he chased down aliens before picking them up from choir practice…

Nope. He couldn't see it. Damn.

"Is it something you want?" asked Tosh gently, and he opened his eyes to smile sideways at her.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "What about you?"

"I don't know either," she said. "I think it would be hard."

"Yes."

"And I don't know that I could give up everything we do for it," she said, and this time she didn't look at him, as if she were worried that he would judge her. Of course he wouldn't; hadn't he just been thinking the same thing?

"I know what you mean," he said softly, and she smiled at him gratefully. "We've seen too much, done too much."

"Especially today," she laughed, and he joined her, and they were silent for a while as he turned over the one factor in the equation he had yet to acknowledge.

"Ianto?" she asked after a while, and he hummed at her. "What's this really about?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, not sure where she was going with it, wondering if he wanted to get into his other thoughts with her, as if it even mattered.

"Well, is this really about Gwen, about weddings and the future and getting married?" He didn't answer. "Or is it about something else?"

He held back another sigh. "You have superpowers, don't you?" he teased, hoping to distract her.

"No, I just have eyes," she said, and she gave him one of those sympathetic looks that sometimes he loved, but other times he hated because he just felt pitied. Right now he wasn't sure which it was.

"And they are lovely eyes," he murmured; she wasn't fooled.

"Ianto, if you want to talk about it…talk about him, you know you can," she said, and he nodded.

"I know," he told her. "And I appreciate it. I'm just not sure what there is to say."

"You danced with him," she said, obviously trying to get him to open up.

"I did," he said, but he didn't offer anything else, in part because he was curious what the others had read into it.

"It looked nice," she said, glancing at him. "Romantic. Wish I had someone to dance with like that," she finished somewhat wistfully.

He watched the countryside roll by through the dark. "It wasn't actually all that," he finally admitted. He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it, but it was true. He had been hoping once it started that it would be nice, even romantic…but it had been awkward, uncomfortable, and unsatisfying in the end. Not his best dance, to be sure.

"So why did you cut in then?" she asked, and there it was: the thing he'd been waiting for since they'd set off. Why had he cut in? Why hadn't he danced with Gwen, like everyone there had probably expected? Why had he turned to Jack instead, practically making a spectacle of himself?

"I don't know," he said. "Well, no, I do know." He closed his eyes as he let the words flow from his tongue: shameful words, but he needed to say them, because maybe then he could release the guilt and resentment that accompanied the words. "It was them. I was tired of watching them."

"Oh Ianto," she whispered, and she took his hand again, and this time he held on.

"He spent most of the day complaining about Gwen getting married," Ianto said. "And then he finishes the night by dancing with her as if they were the only people there, as if he'd never see her again, as if she won't be back at work next week." God, he hated the bitterness dripping from his tongue, but there it was, and he knew Tosh wouldn't judge him, just as he didn't judge her.

Yet she apparently didn't know what to say, other than to encourage him to continue with an understanding smile.

"I was going to dance with Gwen, because honestly, I'm happy for her. I am. I'm glad she's got that little bit of normal in her life, that she's got Rhys. But at the last moment, I couldn't. I wanted to, but something changed as I walked toward them. I'm not even sure what it was." Which was true, yet Tosh figured it out immediately.

"You wanted to claim him," she said simply, and Ianto's eyes went wide. She shrugged. "It's no big deal. I can't blame you. You're right about them, about the way they were looking at one another. Jack needed you to cut in, to remind him."

"To remind him I was even there?" Ianto asked cynically.

"No, to remind him of what he has, not what he was losing." Ianto gave her a puzzled frown. "Look, we all know Jack and Gwen have a special relationship."

Yes, he knew that. He also knew it wasn't all that Jack had hoped it would be: he had brought Gwen Cooper onto the team to be their conscience, their connection. Yet she had her own flaws, and her lack of experience had quickly made it clear that she was not going to be that person for him. She pushed too hard, questioned too much, accepted too little. She had no faith at times, offered little support, and only complicated things more.

She was still important to Jack, though. Ianto did not consider himself the jealous type, and he still refused to pinpoint it as jealousy. He knew they hadn't slept together, and likely never would, especially now that Gwen was married. But they were close, and sometimes it bothered him, like when they had danced so intimately anyone walking in might have thought they were the married couple, not Gwen and Rhys. He nodded at Tosh to continue, and she changed his perspective once again.

"Jack lost a part of her tonight, a part he considered his. I think it's a bit bittersweet for him, for the same reasons we were just talking about: he didn't just lose her to Rhys, he lost her to a normal life. She gets one and we don't. Even Jack—especially Jack. And maybe he wants it too, sometimes."

Ianto was silent, turning it over in his mind. It had not occurred to him that maybe Jack had been experiencing a loss that was complex and emotional and perfectly acceptable. "You are a wise woman, Toshiko Sato."

"Sometimes," she murmured. "I've known Jack for several years. He's been there for me through a lot. I don't think he'd hurt you intentionally."

Ianto sat up quickly. "Hurt me? I didn't say anything about—"

"You didn't have to," she replied. "You barely talked to him after you danced, and you chose to come home with me instead of driving back with Jack."

"So…" He stretched out the word, wondering where to go next.

"So I guess the question is: what do you do now?"

"I have no idea," Ianto admitted. "Nothing, I suppose. That's what we usually do."

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Still no idea," he replied.

"Okay, let me phrase it differently." Both hands came to the steering wheel as she looked determinedly ahead, avoiding eye contact again. "Is it more than just casual with Jack?"

Ianto groaned. "Tosh, you're asking impossible questions. I don't know the answer to that either."

"Ianto," she said, turning to pierce him with her gentle yet oh-so-wise eyes. "Why can't you answer that? Haven't you ever talked about it with him?"

"No," he replied honestly. "We never have." They'd skirted around the issue several times, but never outright addressed it, because that was what they did: they put it aside. They'd agreed to do it that way, in order to keep their distance for reasons they both knew full well. And if they had a problem, they usually shagged it away.

"Well, that's part of the issue right there," Tosh practically exclaimed. "If you don't know what you have with someone, how can you know what to do when you have a problem?"

"Just tell me what to do," Ianto practically begged, and she laughed, diffusing the tension.

"Okay, let's go through this. You're dating, right?"

Ianto shrugged. "I guess so. If you want to call it that."

"Well, you've been out to dinner, movies, concerts, right?" He nodded, and she continued. "Those are dates. You're dating. Has he spent the night at yours?" Ianto nodded wordlessly. "And there was that overnight to London last month?"

"That was for a UNIT meeting," Ianto quickly offered. Not that they hadn't taken advantage of a posh hotel, king size bed, and whirlpool hot tub…

"Yet you shared a room with a single bed, right?" she asked. He stared at her.

"How do you know all this?" he asked, exaggerating the awe in his voice.

"You're not the only one who knows everything," she replied, and gave him a rare wink that finally got him to loosen up and laugh.

"All right, yes to all of those things. So what's your point?"

"I'm not done with my questions."

"This is not why I got in the car with you," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"Of course it is," she shot back, and he gave her an eye roll just to make her smile.

"Yes, it is," he acknowledged. "So continue with the third degree, please."

"Right. So are you dating anyone else?" she asked, surprising him with the abrupt non sequitur.

"Er, no," he replied. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Is Jack?" she asked.

"I've no idea," Ianto shrugged. "That's Jack's business." Really, he tried not to think about it. He was kidding himself to assume that Jack was only seeing him, sleeping with just him; Jack was not that kind of man. He was from the 51st century, where people looked at relationships a lot differently, and Ianto had worked hard to accept that, as difficult as it was sometimes.

"Ianto, it's your business too!" she said. "If you're in a real relationship with someone—"

"Wait, who said anything about a real relationship?" he asked. This time Tosh rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, you two. Ianto, I don't think Jack is seeing anyone but you."

"So?"

"So if you're not seeing anyone but him, and he's not seeing anyone but you, and you go on dates and trips and spend the night together, then you're in a real relationship."

"We're co-workers. Friends." Ianto paused and grinned to himself. "With benefits."

But Tosh didn't laugh. "You told Owen it wasn't like that, you and Jack. You wouldn't have said that if you didn't think it was true. Why are you denying it now?"

"Why are you talking to Owen about my sex life?" he snapped, unintentionally sounding more upset than he meant to.

"I didn't," she replied, instantly appearing contrite. "Owen told me what you said while you were dancing with Jack tonight. We were trying to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" Ianto asked wearily. This was too much. This was not what he had expected when he'd got into the car with Tosh. He had just wanted to vent a little, not psychoanalyze his relationship with Jack.

Wait, had he just thought of it as a relationship?

"It's pretty obvious that you two are more than you want us to think, more than you want to admit."

"Tosh, we're just—"

"No, you're not!" she said, her voice rising again. "Ianto! You go out on dates. You finish each other's sentences. You toss things back and forth to one another without a second thought. You're constantly exchanging small glances and touches." She paused and gave him a know-it-all look. "Shall I go on? Because I can. You've always helped him with his coat, but now he's helping with yours. I've seen you roll your eyes as you wipe his face after eating greasy pizza, and he actually takes your plate and gets you more. You stay with him every time he dies. And you hunt Weevils together all the time, which we all know is just an excuse for a good shag."

He had to admit that last was true, but the rest?

"The only thing you don't seem to do is talk to each other—really talk to each other. About your relationship, or things like tonight." There was a sense of light rebuke in her voice that made Ianto feel like a chastised child. Which he probably was. She had just taken everything about him and Jack, molded it into something rather difficult to confront, and then thrown in his face like a whipped cream pie filled with rocks.

"So now, Ianto Jones," she said, calming down. "Tell me why. Why don't you ever talk to him so you can figure this out and see what everyone else sees?"

Ianto thought about it for a long time, so long that she called his name again. He turned toward her with a sigh.

"He's immortal, Tosh," he finally said, as if that explained everything. "I don't know what I'm doing with him, or why he even bothers with me. One day he'll leave, or I'll die, and that will be the end of it." He took a deep breath and finished. "So maybe if we don't talk about it, about us, it won't hurt as much when it happens."

Tosh sucked in a gasp; Ianto hung his head, suddenly exhausted. It was if Tosh had wrenched it out of him and left him empty. He had no idea how to fill the gaping wound left behind, the realization that denying something didn't mean it wouldn't happen anyway. Because it had: Ianto cared about Jack, and in spite of everything they had both done to keep their distance, he knew it would hurt like hell the day it ended, one way or another.

"I'm sorry," Tosh murmured. Ianto just held her hand tight, refusing to let go as he closed his eyes to the passing night and felt his heart go to pieces in his chest.

* * *

Author's Notes

More chatty people with little plot. Someday I'm going to move to Hollywood and work in television so I can write dialogue to my heart's content. Hope you enjoyed it, though. One more part, and you can guess who's talking in that one, yeah?


	3. Part Three - Something Blue

Part Three - Something Blue

Jack dropped Owen off at his flat before returning to the hub, alone as the sun started to rise.

As he drove back, he pondered what Owen had asked him in the car. Had he thought about Ianto once during the previous day? Yes, he had. Yet he had been too wrapped up in everything else going on around him to show it, once again demonstrating his remarkable lack of consideration for the people he cared about. He may have felt like he lost Gwen, but because of it, he might actually be very close to losing Ianto instead. He couldn't let that happen.

Owen had opened his eyes, strangely enough. Owen who hadn't had but one or two real relationships since his fiancé had died. Owen who was no longer a living, breathing person, but who now saw things far more clearly than he ever had before. Owen, who had always given Jack and Ianto—especially Ianto—such a hard time for whatever it was that they were up to.

The irony of it would be laughable, if it wasn't so serious.

Jack had completely ignored Ianto's feelings, Ianto's needs. All he could think about was Gwen—leaving him, leaving Torchwood, even though she wasn't leaving either, she had just got married. Yet it felt like a loss, because she was the only one of them who had managed to maintain some semblance of a normal life outside the hub, and normality had won. Jack had lost yet again, and in the process, he had overlooked the one person he cared about the most, the one person who might have actually been there for him because Ianto always seemed to understand and support him. Instead he had treated Ianto more like the quick fuck Owen assumed it was, instead of what it had come to be.

Because all those things Owen had said about a real relationship…they did those things, all of them. Which meant, in spite of his best efforts—and Ianto's too, he knew—they were knee deep in something that qualified as a real relationship in Owen's book. Jack accepted that, and he wanted to make it right. He needed to, because he needed Ianto. He had always needed him, though he hadn't always realized it: someone he could share just about everything with, who accepted him as he was no matter what, who was there for him when he had to make the hard decision, or when he died and came back to life. And Jack liked being with someone who also needed him: he liked being the one to chase away the demons when they grew too strong at night, to offer comfort when the world weighed too heavily on such young shoulders. Jack wanted to be that person for Ianto because he _cared…_dammit, he really cared, and now he'd gone and messed it up again and might never get the chance to really explain how much he cared, as complicated as it was sometimes.

As he entered the hub, Jack reached into his pocket and blew a handful of confetti through the air, watching it float away as if he were letting go of the past and looking toward the future. As he watched it settle, he was suddenly struck by a thought and walked quickly toward his office.

Taking an old tin from his desk, Jack sifted through the contents, old photos and letters, a collection of memories from a lifetime of experience. He finally stopped when he came to the one he was looking for: a photograph, old and faded, of a young man with a beautiful woman, glancing sternly at the camera because that was the proper thing to do at the time, even though they had both been bursting with joy.

His wedding.

Owen may have been shocked, but Jack had loved her deeply. He had been living with his immortality for a long time at that point, long enough to realize that he was lonely after pushing people away for so many years and couldn't live like that any longer. He had wanted someone—had needed her. Yet it hadn't lasted long, and he had again retreated into the cocoon of distance and detachment that had become the safe haven for his soul, his sanity, and his heart.

Setting the old photo aside, Jack continued to look through the tin, finding what he was looking for at the bottom. He pulled them out with a smile, turning them over in his hands and nodding to himself. Yes, this was what he needed to do. It was time to break out of the cocoon again, to take that risk Owen was talking about. It was time to live for the joy of now, rather than in fear of the future.

It was late—or early, depending on how one looked at it—but he sent Ianto a text, hoping he'd catch the other man awake.

_Can I come by? J_

He tapped his desk impatiently, gently polishing the mementos in his hands before packing everything back into the tin. Finally his mobile dinged at him.

_It's late. I'll be in this afternoon if you need anything. I_

Jack shook his head; he wasn't taking no for an answer, mostly because if he didn't do this now, he might lose his nerve by the time he saw Ianto and everything would most likely go back to the way it was: awkward and uncomfortable until they fucked it away again. He wanted to resolve it now, with honest words, not an automatic shag.

_I won't be long. We need to talk. _

This time he didn't have to wait as long, but the answer made his heart clench tight in his chest.

_There's nothing to talk about, Jack. I'll see you later._

Jack could imagine the look on Ianto's face as he typed, the tone of his voice if he were to speak the words out loud. Owen had been right: Ianto had not wanted to ride home with Jack because of the way Jack had acted that day, and now he didn't want to talk about it. Yet Jack was nothing if not stubborn and determined when he set his mind to something he knew was right.

_I'm coming over. I have something I want to share with you._

As soon as he hit send, Jack could imagine Ianto rolling his eyes, thinking Jack was referring to something else entirely…which for once, he wasn't.

_Fine. _

One word that spoke volumes. Fine. It wasn't fine, but Jack was going to make it better. Everything was clear now, everything made sense, and everything was going to be all right. Because deep down, he cared too much to let it go any other way, and if he got hurt again in the end, then at least he would have lived his life honestly, with a strong man like Ianto by his side.

He hoped, anyway. Pocketing the trinkets from his memories box, Jack slipped the tin back into his desk, grabbed his coat, and hurried back to the SUV. The grin on his face hid a racing heart, because he was nervous for the first time in many years. He just hoped he wasn't too late, and that his gift was accepted for what it really was.

* * *

Ianto put down his mobile, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. He hadn't even had a chance to shower and change, let alone fall into bed to wallow with his thoughts for a few short hours and ponder everything that he and Tosh had talked about on the way home. Because he knew he would, though he probably wouldn't sleep much because of it.

So maybe it was better that Jack was coming over, only Ianto wasn't sure why, or what either one of them was going to say. What was done was done, time to move on. It was what they did, after all. Had a misunderstanding or a fight or even got genuinely pissed off about something, then shagged it away a few hours later without really talking about it. Hell, sometimes Jack didn't even apologize, he just showed up in the archives or the tourist office and wore Ianto down with his puppy dog eyes and fake misery. And because Ianto didn't really want to talk about it either, he always gave in at the end. It was what they did, who they were.

As he puttered back toward the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves and taking off his tie, Ianto wondered why Jack couldn't just wait until later to kiss and make up. At least it would be less fresh in their minds and not at the crack of dawn. Ianto was tired and didn't want to think about it now; he wanted to go to bed and move on when he went back in to work.

He started a kettle for tea, which wasn't his favorite drink, but he wasn't about to put down a mug of coffee at five in the morning and ruin any chance at a few hours rest. His mind wandered as he waited, and his eyes drooped closed more than a few times, until the kettle whistled at exactly the same time a knock sounded at the door. Startled from where he had been leaning tiredly against the counter, he took the kettle off the burner and started toward the front of his flat, where there was another impatient knock.

"Christ, I'll be right there, Jack!" he shouted at the door, yanking it open to find Jack standing there, hands behind his back as he shuffled on the threshold, actually looking…nervous?

"Hi," he said, the same look on his face from when he first asked Ianto on a date: uncertain, yet hopeful. Ianto was surprised, because he had been expecting a far more forward and aggressive Jack given his insistence on coming over.

"Come in then," Ianto grumbled as he turned away. "Can't have you waking the entire building."

"Thanks," said Jack. Letting himself inside, he shut the door quietly behind him, locking it just like Ianto usually did. He laid his coat on a nearby chair and followed Ianto into the kitchen.

Ianto offered him a cup and saucer. "Tea?" he asked, not really giving Jack a choice. The civility of drinking tea would be his shield, because he was tired and upset and needed a shield of some sort if he was going to make it through whatever Jack wanted to talk about.

"Perfect," said Jack. "Thanks for letting me come by."

"What couldn't wait until tomorrow?" asked Ianto, moving toward the small kitchen table and sitting. Gods, he was tired and didn't want to do this now. He had meant what he told Tosh: they didn't talk about…well, _things,_ because that just made the situation complicated and messy and neither of them wanted that, they'd agreed on that much. It was what it was, and most days Ianto was happy to leave it that way.

Except for days like the previous one, where he'd watched one of his good friends and co-workers get married. On days like that, he wished he had a better idea of what it was that he and Jack were doing so he didn't have to hope for more. Because he did want more, sometimes, and he hated that he did because it hurt. And since he knew it would never happen, it had occurred to him on the way home, as he and Tosh rode in comfortable silence, that maybe it was time to end it. Maybe it was time to move on before it hurt even more. He could search for that normal life Gwen had managed to cling to and hope that one day he'd find someone to share it with.

Jack sat down across from him and was silent for a few minutes. Ianto wasn't sure what to say and finally opened his mouth just as Jack started to speak. They grinned sheepishly at each other.

"Go ahead," said Ianto, blowing into his cup before taking a sip. "You texted me, you should start."

"Right," said Jack, and suddenly he seemed nervous again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that he kept hidden in his palm, running his fingers over whatever it was as if it drawing strength and comfort from the mysterious item. "Look, Ianto, I'm sorry."

"About?" asked Ianto, wondering if Jack really had any idea of what he was apologizing for. He usually didn't, not when he actually used the words.

"About yesterday," Jack shrugged, looking down at the table. "I know I was out of it all day and wasn't really thinking of anything else but—"

"Gwen and her wedding," finished Ianto more calmly than he felt. "Understandable."

"But I wasn't thinking what you think I was thinking," Jack said, meeting Ianto's eyes. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"And what do you think I was I thinking?" He stopped, feeling like he was trapped in a bad bit of television dialogue that would forever go back and forth. "Or rather, what did Owen tell you?"

Jack's eyes went wide. "Did you talk to Owen?"

"Of course not." Ianto shrugged in reply. "You drove him home and then show up here wanting to talk, so I really have no choice but to assume that he must have pointed something out to you."

"Because I don't usually see it myself?" asked Jack ruefully.

"Exactly. So, go ahead. Read my mind." He hadn't meant to sound bitter and challenging, but it came out that way. Jack, however, rose to the challenge.

"I know it looked like I was upset about Gwen getting married, and in some ways I am. It's going to be hard for her, balancing Torchwood with a marriage. And yes, I feel like I've lost someone special, even though I've lost her to a good man who will give her a good life." He paused to take a deep breath. "I guess deep down I'm a little envious, really."

"Of Rhys?" Ianto asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral this time, but Jack smiled and shook his head.

"Nope," he replied. "Of Gwen."

Ianto snorted. "Should have known you've been eyeing him up all this time."

"Oh, that's so wrong," said Jack, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "No, not like that. I'm envious that she gets the normal life—the husband, the house, the inevitable kids—and the rest of us don't."

Ianto set down his tea cup and looked into it, trying to hide his surprise. Finally he nodded and glanced back up. "That's exactly what Tosh and I were talking about on the drive back. A normal life."

"So do you want that life, then?" Jack asked, and Ianto thought the other man sounded scared, the underlying tone to his voice both nervous and sad.

"I don't know," said Ianto honestly. "I used to, and sometimes I still do. But it would be hard. Torchwood doesn't leave much room for that sort of thing."

"Gwen's going for it," Jack pointed out.

"Yes, but she's always been different than the rest of us. She doesn't have our pasts, our histories. She can do normal."

Jack was silent. "And the rest of us can't." It was more of a statement than a question. He was still playing with whatever he was holding in his hand.

"Jack, why are you here?" Ianto asked. "If you already talked to Owen about this, why are we going over it again at five o'clock in the morning?"

Jack sighed. "I wanted to talk to you about it."

"I'm not sure what else there is to talk about," Ianto pointed out. "You apologized, end of story. Everything will go back to normal, just like it always does—Torchwood normal."

"That's the thing," Jack said, frowning. "Why can't _we_ create our own normal, outside of Torchwood? It might not be the same as Gwen and Rhys, but it could still be ours."

He had said _we _and _ours._ Ianto tried not to let his feelings about that show on his face, so he sipped at his tea again before replying. "I don't understand."

Jack laid out whatever he had been toying with on the table. It was a pair of square cufflinks, simple in design but obviously high quality, brushed silver with a deep blue stone set in the center. Ianto glanced up at Jack in confusion, but Jack only smiled sadly.

"These were mine," he started, his voice so soft and gentle that Ianto almost had to lean forward to hear him. "I wore them on the day I was married, over ninety years ago. Her name was Elizabeth, and she was as beautiful on the day I married her as on the day she died." He pulled out a worn, faded photograph and handed it across the table.

Ianto was speechless. He shouldn't have been, knowing that Jack had lived through the entire 20th century. Of course Jack had had other lovers; it only made sense that he might have been married as well, possibly even had children. It was just that Jack didn't talk about it much; he only seemed to refer to his more casual encounters, rarely mentioning the people he had loved and lost as if it were too painful. And looking at the photograph before him, Ianto suddenly realized that it probably was just that: Jack had been _married,_ and his wife had died, and yet he would continue on, outliving their family and friends, forever.

Which was exactly why they didn't talk about _them. _ The same thing would happen to them one day. So it was what it was, and that was enough…wasn't it?

"She was beautiful," Ianto murmured, handing the photograph back with a sad smile. He was glad Jack had shared it with him, though he wasn't sure why it had to be at five o'clock in the morning. "Did you have long together?" he asked, wanting to know more and hoping Jack would share.

Jack shook his head. "A few years. She died during the flu pandemic. We both got sick, actually, but I obviously recovered, and she didn't. I woke up from the fever only to find she had died during the night."

"I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered, and he reached across the table to take Jack's hand. Jack only nodded as he struggled to hold back rare tears. When he looked up into Ianto's face, his eyes were bright.

"Owen asked me what I was really thinking about today. Was I thinking about myself, about Gwen? Did I think about you? The answer is that I was thinking about everything—about my own wedding, about Elizabeth, about Gwen and that damn alien, and yes, about you. But I didn't really show it, did I? Even when you had to cut in for a dance to get my attention." Jack chuckled, and Ianto leaned back with his arms across his chest.

"I wasn't trying to get your attention," he said, feeling defensive. "I just wanted to dance."

"But not with Gwen," Jack teased, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"You looked like you needed a distraction," he said, keeping his voice level. Jack's grin immediately dropped.

"I probably did, and I'm sorry. I wish I could go back and do it again," he said, and now it was Ianto's turn to frown.

"The dance? Don't worry about it Jack, it was just a dance."

"It should have been better—it should have been more."

Jack looked so sincere that Ianto really wasn't sure what was going on anymore, so he shook his head and just tried to deflect it. "Well, I've never danced with a bloke before, so I wouldn't know."

Jack offered a small smile that slipped off his face too quickly. Ianto didn't know what to say—this was even more awkward than the dance itself—and hid himself in his cup again. Jack sighed and stood up, scooping the cufflinks into his palm as he began to pace around the small kitchen.

"Ianto, can I tell you something?" he said, standing in front of the refrigerator and staring too hard at the sparse grocery list hanging there.

"Of course you can," Ianto said. "Or you could wait until tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow," Jack murmured absently.

"Then by all means continue, because sleep is completely overrated."

Jack turned around, his face crestfallen. "You really are upset with me, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto said, shaking his head as he stood and took his cup to the sink. "It's not that I'm upset...well, maybe I am. But I'm tired, it was a hard day for a lot of reasons, and I just don't know if this is the time to be talking about this. If we even need to talk about it."

When Ianto turned around, Jack was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him with such a look of despair that Ianto glanced over his shoulder, certain there must be some sort of deadly alien lurking behind him. Obviously there wasn't, but the pain and fear he saw clearly in Jack's eyes did not go away.

"Jack, what's wrong? Tell me what's wrong."

Jack's mouth moved as if it were hard to form the words he wanted to say. It was so out of character that Ianto was starting to wonder if something had happened to Jack—alien tech was always a possibility, or maybe he was lost in a flashback. Feeling both worried and annoyed but letting his compassion guide him, Ianto slowly approached the man struck dumb in the middle of his kitchen and took his hand again.

"Talk to me, Jack."

"I'm scared," he whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Of what?" asked Ianto, thoroughly confused now and thinking once again that something must have happened, that he'd have to call Owen any moment and bring the team back in to figure out what was wrong with their leader.

"Of us," he said. "_For_ us. Ianto, are you so angry with me that it's over? Have I messed up so badly that…that you would leave?" His face was with struck with naked emotion, and Ianto felt his heart begin to pound.

"What do you mean, leave? Leave Torchwood?" he asked.

"Leave Torchwood…leave me," Jack whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. Ianto dropped Jack's hand and stepped back.

"Oh." He swallowed thickly, recognizing that this was it, this was the pain they had been trying to spare themselves by never really addressing what it was between them. It was worse than he had imagined, the thought that it could be over—all he had to do was say the words, and he could move on, try for a normal life.

"No," he finally whispered back, then cleared his throat. "No, I'm not that angry at you, Jack. Disappointed, maybe, but I'm not so upset that I would leave. I admit that the temptation to live a normal life is strong sometimes, like when a close co-worker gets married and lives happily ever after, but…" He took a deep breath. "…but I don't think that's really who I am now. I'm Torchwood." Deep down he knew he was Jack's as well, but he would never, ever say that out loud.

Such a look of relief passed over Jack's face that Ianto was startled when the other man suddenly stepped forward, took his face in both hands, and kissed him soundly. It left him breathless but still confused when Jack stepped back and nodded, smiling broadly.

"I don't want you to leave," said Jack, his voice stronger and more confident. "I don't want you to leave Torchwood, and I don't want you to leave me, no matter how much of an arsehole I can be. I want to have as normal of a relationship as possible." He took Ianto's hand and slipped the cufflinks into them, folding Ianto's fingers over the studs and then bringing them to his lips to kiss them gently. "With you."

"I don't understand," said Ianto for what felt like the tenth time that night.

"I want you to have them," Jack replied.

"But they're yours, they're a reminder of your wedding day—"

"I have other things, other mementos to help me remember," Jack said. "They're yours now, a reminder for you, for us. And they go with your eyes." Jack wagged his eyebrows with a grin, but Ianto just gave him a suspicious look…tempered with the barest hint of the smile he felt growing within.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you have blue eyes," Jack replied, his own now twinkling with amusement. Ianto ignored him.

"No, I mean, why do you want me to have them? And why now?" He thought he might know the answer, but he didn't want to even think about it unless Jack actually said it.

"Because I meant what I just said," Jack replied. "I want to be as normal as we can, together, with and without Torchwood." When Ianto didn't reply, Jack continued. "I know we've haven't really talked about it before, about us, but maybe we should. Maybe we need to stop pretending that we don't care. Maybe we need to—"

"Stop," said Ianto. He let his eyes slip closed before taking a deep breath and opening them again. "Jack, what about the future? What about the day when you…you move on, or when I—"

Jack put a finger to his lips and silenced him, his eyes crinkled with that eternal pain Ianto saw slip by every so often. "That's the risk we take," he whispered. "To feel and experience something really amazing now, you have to be willing to risk losing it later."

Ianto sighed as he looked down at the cufflinks in his hand. Ninety years. How could he do that to Jack, be with him now only to have to leave him one day, to become nothing but a memory and a set of cufflinks handed on to another lover after another ninety years? Did he really want that, for either of them?

Yes. He did. He wanted it more than anything because he couldn't imagine anything else.

"I'm sorry," he said, closing his fingers around the cufflinks again and glancing up into Jack's eyes. Jack looked shocked and scared.

"What? No… Ianto, please don't say that. You're not going to—"

Ianto leaned forward and kissed him quickly to stop him even thinking it. "No, I'm not leaving. I'm just sorry you'll have to go through this all over again."

Jack's relief was palpable as he blew out a long breath. "It's worth the risk," he said, pulling Ianto toward him. "You're worth the risk." He grasped Ianto's hand, opened it, and took up the cufflinks. Very slowly he rolled down Ianto's shirtsleeves and fastened each silver link through the cuffs, never once losing eye contact. It was strangely intimate, and felt like far more than what it actually was. Maybe it was more; Ianto knew something had changed dramatically and his life would never be the same.

"This is where you say I'm worth the risk too," Jack whispered, but he was smiling. Ianto inclined his head as if thinking.

"What if I'm still trying to work that out?" he asked. He hoped Jack heard the teasing in his voice; deep down, Ianto knew it was worth the risk. It was just that he also knew that moving forward wasn't only taking a risk, it was acknowledging a certainty: one day, it would hurt them both.

Jack narrowed his eyes and growled a bit in that way he had when Ianto bantered with him, but he had no comeback. "I can show you," Jack offered, his hands winding around Ianto's waist and bringing them flush together.

"You've just put my shirt back on properly, new studs and all," Ianto pointed out, pretending to admire the cufflinks. "Here I thought you might as well take me out for a posh breakfast."

"You can leave the shirt on then," Jack replied. "And I'll cook you a posh breakfast, but only if you drop your trousers. Now."

Ianto rolled his eyes but smiled, then reached around and took both of Jack's hands, leading him out of the kitchen. "I'd like breakfast in bed, if you don't mind. That seems like a fairly normal thing to do."

"As long as you eat it naked," Jack replied.

"As long as you cook it naked," Ianto tossed back, and Jack laughed.

"You know me," he said, and Ianto suddenly stopped, so that Jack bumped into him right at the threshold of the bedroom. He turned to Jack with a shake of his head.

"I thought I did, but you surprised me just now," he said softly.

"I've got a few left in me." Jack grinned back, but Ianto tried to keep it serious.

"I mean it, Jack. You really…yeah, you really did." He cleared his throat, because he had no words for what had passed between them, so he simply leaned forward and kissed Jack once more, deeply and passionately. "Thank you for the cufflinks," he whispered when they pulled away.

"Thank you for accepting them," Jack murmured back. "I hope you understand what I was trying to say. I'm not always good with words." He leaned his forehead against Ianto's and sighed. "Tell me you understand."

"I do, Jack," said Ianto. "I really do."

"Good," he said, and his voice, if possible, grew even more hoarse. "Because I think I've finally realized, or admitted, or accepted, that I—"

"Don't," said Ianto softly, his turn to place a finger against Jack's lips. "You don't need to say anything."

"I want to."

"I know, Jack."

"You're too good for me, Ianto Jones."

"I know that too, Jack."

But more importantly, he knew what they were, what they had, and where they were going. And for one of the first times since they'd fallen into their strange, undefined arrangement, Ianto felt like maybe, just maybe, they weren't that dysfunctional after all and did have a real relationship. And maybe they could have a normal life together, for however long they had with one another.

It was definitely worth the risk.

* * *

Author's Note

The end! Yes, that's a lot of talking for those two, isn't it? And a bit soppy as well. Well, it could have happened. Think about how their relationship changed over the next few episodes; maybe this was a turning point. Of course, I think something happened that disrupted whatever they had going before CoE, since there is far too much couple angst during Day One, but that's another story. And I've still got one story to finish, plus about six more started or at least floating around pestering me, so I won't be getting into any of that soon.

Thank you so much for all the reviews and the follows! Honestly, the follows freaked me out, so I hope it lived up to your expectations and then some. And if not…well, it is what it is, and I'm happy with how it turned out. I do love it when Jack and Ianto actually figure things out, after all. Many thanks to Cerih and Darcy58 for their encouragement, and to all of you for reading!


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